The US Capital Commotion (2 page)

“Wow,” Arthur’s voice whispered. “Cops.”

“We’re here for Mr. Stanley Lambchop!” the governor announced.

“You’re here for—” began Stanley’s mother tentatively.

Stanley’s heart raced. It was the governor! Of the whole state!

“Well?” boomed the governor. “Where is he?”

Nobody spoke.

Stanley knew that his family was thinking the same thing he was: Sliding out from beneath a couch is no way to introduce yourself to a very important person.

“I was afraid of this,” murmured the governor. “Mr. and Mrs. Lambchop, may we come in?”

Stanley saw a pair of cowboy boots and two pairs of very well-shined shoes.

“Can you tell us the last time you saw your son, ma’am?” said the black shoes.

“Why, just this morning,” replied Stanley’s mother’s toe, which was tapping nervously.

“And where was that?” the brown shoes inquired.

“In his room,” answered Mrs. Lambchop.

“Great Gettysburg!” murmured the governor’s boots. “They took the boy from his own room! Don’t you worry,” the boots declared. “You can rest assured we will have the United States government on the case. Those kidnappers will be sorry they ever thought to mess with an American hero!”

“Kidnappers!?” cried Mr. and Mrs. Lambchop.

“American hero?” said Stanley.

The cowboy boots and the shined shoes all turned toward the couch.

“Who said that?” whispered the governor.

Stanley poked his head out from under the couch. “I did?”

“Holy Declaration of Independence!” The governor jumped in surprise.

“I was just, um…,” Stanley got to his feet, “cleaning up underneath the couch.” He picked a piece of fluff off his shirt.

The police officers relaxed their stance, and the governor extended an enormous hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, young man.”

Stanley shook his hand. “My mom sewed the costume,” he stammered. “It really wasn’t my idea.”

“Don’t be bashful,” said the governor. “Be proud. We need more heroes like you.”

“But I didn’t—”

“America can’t get enough of this young man!” The governor clapped Stanley on the back. “You’re on the cover of every newspaper in the nation!”

“I was Ben Franklin!” said Arthur.

The governor mussed Arthur’s hair. “Of course you were! No hero stands alone, my boy!”

Arthur frowned.

“Stanley, we’re here to escort you and your family to Washington. Pack your bags. The chopper lifts off in thirty minutes.”

“Washington, DC?” said Mrs. Lambchop.

“But why?” said Stanley.

“For the ceremony, of course!” laughed the governor.

The Lambchops exchanged confused looks.

“Wait a second. Are you saying you don’t know?”

The governor squared his shoulders. “Stanley Lambchop, by the order of the president of the United States of America, you are to receive the National Medal of Achievement.”

Both of the police officers saluted Stanley.

“Oh, brother,” said Arthur under his breath.

Mr. and Mrs. Lambchop glared at him. “Oh, brother,” Arthur repeated, rolling his eyes. “
I’m so proud of you
.”

The military helicopter zoomed through the sky over America. Inside, the governor briefed the Lambchops.

“The National Medal of Achievement,” the governor explained, “has been awarded to the greatest scientists, artists, and political leaders in American history.”

“But I didn’t
do
anything,” Stanley said quietly.

“Leaping Liberty Bell! That’s not what I read,” said the governor. “I read that you saved Mount Rushmore!”

“He was only a Band-aid on one of the foreheads,” grumbled Arthur. Stanley nodded in agreement.

The governor punched Stanley’s shoulder playfully, and it bent backward for a moment like the corner of a piece of paper. “Stanley,” he said admiringly, “there is nothing more heroic than humility.”

Stanley turned and gazed out the window. They had passed over yellow prairies and green, rolling hills. Now, they were moments from landing in Washington, DC. He knew he was supposed to be excited, but he felt that someone had made a terrible mistake.

“You’ll be under twenty-four-hour guard during your stay in the capital, Stanley,” said the governor. “We can’t risk an international incident.”

“Do you think Stanley is in danger?” Mrs. Lambchop said, shooting an anxious look at Stanley’s father.

The governor leaned forward. “Did
you
think he was in danger the night you lay him down to sleep under an innocent-looking bulletin board?”

Stanley’s parents’ eyes widened.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of him, ma’am,” said one of the officers sitting behind them.

“Look!” cried Arthur.

Out the window, the top of a thin white tower loomed, looking close enough to touch.

“The Washington Monument,” said the governor. “Built to honor our first president, General George Washington. Begun in 1848, and not completed until another forty years later. At the time, it was the tallest building on Earth.”

As the helicopter touched down a few moments later, Stanley glimpsed an enormous crowd of people waving American flags. “Ready, Stanley?” asked the governor.

Stanley had looked into the eyes of sneak thieves while hiding in a painting at the National Museum. He had been kidnapped by spies in Mexico and foiled grave robbers in Egypt.

But he had never been more frightened than this. There was a rustling in his ears, and he realized his whole body was shaking like a leaf.

I shouldn’t be here, he thought desperately.

Stanley’s parents took his hands as the door swung open, and his feet were immediately blown out from beneath him by the helicopter’s rotors. He flapped wildly between his mother and father.

But then the rotors slowed to a stop, and Stanley realized that the roar he was hearing wasn’t the helicopter. It was the sea of people before him.

Even more shocking, they weren’t waving flags. They were waving… Stanleys. There were hundreds and hundreds of posters cut out to look like Stanley in his flag costume.

“Flat Stanley! Flat Stanley! Flat Stanley!” The crowd surged forward. A screaming girl tried to grab Stanley’s head. Someone stepped on his leg, and Stanley imagined a piece of dough being fed into a rolling machine.

I’ll be trampled! he thought.

In a panic, Stanley broke free from his parents’ grip. He twisted his body and squeezed between two people and then two more, using his flatness to slide through the tight spaces in the crowd. His ears rang with people screaming his name. He slipped and slid and squeezed on and on. Finally, the crowd started to thin out, and he bent his legs beneath him. Now he was a blur, springing through the air, hopping the way he’d learned from the kangaroos in Australia.

And before he realized what he was doing, Stanley Lambchop was running away.

Stanley spotted a pair of police officers strolling toward him. He looked around for a place to hide before he was spotted.

Then he saw it: a big framed poster, taller than he was, hung on a side of the building. It showed a crowd of smiling people of every possible shape and shade, wearing traditional garb from all over the world. At the top were the words
WE THE PEOPLE
.

Stanley leaped up and balanced inside the frame, plastering his face into a smile. He silently apologized to the white-bearded rabbi he was covering.

The police officers were right in front of him! Their walkie-talkies crackled.

“Calling all forces! National hero misplaced. Description: eleven years old, less than one inch thick, brown hair. Possible kidnapping.”

“Let’s go!” said one of the officers, and they raced away.

Stanley allowed himself a sigh of relief … until he noticed two men on the other side of the boulevard. They were both wearing dark suits and sunglasses, and they were staring right at him. They started crossing the street, weaving between cars, their pace quickening.

A chill went down Stanley’s body. Kidnappers! he thought.

At that moment, a crowd of people came marching down the sidewalk, chanting, “Change the law! Do what’s right! Truth and justice must unite!”